


after all this time

by trashsenal



Series: i open at the close [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Borussia Dortmund, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, just know this is literally the hogwarts au for bvb that no one asked for, well sort of it's weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsenal/pseuds/trashsenal
Summary: "After all this time?""Always."- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows...aka Chelix and the Hogwarts AU literally no one asked for, but everyone low-key needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, like, I saw this one picture of Christian and Felix on Tumblr where Christian was wearing a BVB scarf, and my ass immediately thought it looked like a Hufflepuff scarf, and I also steadfastly hold to my headcanon that Felix is totally a Hufflepuff, and thus my first work for the football fandom was born. Enjoy. :)

**year one**

 

They told him Platform 9 ¾ did not exist, and yet here it was.

Everything was so loud, so bright, if that’s how it could be described, and nothing made sense in the chaos. Owls screeched, children cried, friends called out to each other from opposite ends of the platform; the smoke billowing dutifully from the train made everything hazy and hard to see. It only added to the confusion.

Felix instinctively pressed himself against his mother, but wished he hadn’t immediately after when she began running her fingers through his hair. It was more a gesture to soothe herself, he knew. She was nervous about him, her baby, going off to some wizard school halfway across Europe, in Scotland, at eleven tender years of age. Felix let her continue messing up his hair-- the hair he’d worked hard on, thank you-- if it meant she wouldn't start crying. She needed to save that for when he actually boarded, or for when the train was pulling out of the station.

The time flew by faster than expected, and soon it was time to board. His mother knelt down to his height and pulled him into a hug so tight he was sure he’d feel it tonight when going to bed in a strange dorm.

“You be good, _schatzi,”_ She smiled at him, pulling away. “And write to me. Every day. Promise?”

“Promise.”

She kissed him on the head and stepped back. Felix waved awkwardly and got in line to board, lugging his heavy trunk, and felt silly having to look back towards his mother for reassurance. So he looked everywhere but-- at the brick walls, at the sign, at the red of the train, at the passerby. He spotted another boy wearing first year robes looking completely exasperated at being coddled by his mother. He broke away from his parents with the same awkward little wave, the same urgency and hesitance. Felix smirked.

“Hi,” He said, turning around. The boy was in line behind him. “I’m Felix.”

The boy blinked as if surprised he was being spoken to. “I’m Christian.”

They shared a compartment on the train, not sure who followed who into it, and learned more about each other in hours than most people did in months.

 

**year two**

 

“Wait, what _?”_

“Felix is in the infirmary.” Julian, usually calmer than most of them, looked distressed. “He’s… It’s bad.”

Christian frowned. “But are you not gonna tell me what’s wrong with him?”

Julian exchanged a glance with Roman. The taller boy bit his lip before finally letting it slip.

“He’s completely paralyzed.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Christian repeated. His voice nearly cracked. “What do you mean? What happened to him? How can he be completely paralyzed? I thought this kind of stuff didn't happen at Hogwarts--”

“Shhhhhh.” Roman waved his hand at him as a gesture to stop asking so many questions. “Look, mate, we know as much as you do. But you’re his best friend. Someone needed to break it lightly.”

If that was Roman’s definition of “lightly”, he’d have hated to see how he harsh he could be. He didn’t know what to say, looking at his two older friends for the guidance he knew they didn't have.

“We can visit, if you’d like.” Julian offered, clearly trying to soften to blow. “Marco and Mario are still there I think, and you know how Madame Pomfrey is about visits, but--”

“When can we?”

Roman slung his arm around his shoulder. “We can go now. Come on, mate.”

* * *

 

Christian considered himself fortunate to never have been to the infirmary before. Even though it was large, with high ceilings and plenty of windows, it still unnerved him. A couple of the beds were occupied, curtains drawn around them, and that fact only made it worse. He felt queasy being led towards the very end of one of the rows, where two figures were already near one of the beds.

“Hey, guys,” Mario greeted, looking up at them from his seat. “What brings you around here?”

“Came to visit.” Roman nudged Christian forward. He threw the taller boy a dirty look that probably had no effect on him. “We’re worried.”

“What… Happened?” Christian asked, knowing that he’d get the same answer. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

“We don’t know.” Marco answered, not even sparing him a glance. “No one knows what’s going on.”

He couldn't bring himself to look at his best friend. If he did, he knew he’d either throw up or tear up-- both things he’d rather not do in front of the older boys. So he’s the first to leave when Madame Pomfrey began complaining about too many visitors, and lets Marco and Mario keep Felix company.

When the Chamber of Secrets-- whatever it actually was-- finally closed, and things went back to normal, he told Felix that he visited him every day because he did.

 

**year three**

 

“This is so cool.”

Felix raised a brow at his best friend. “Do they not have snow in America?”

Christian rolled his eyes at him. “Not the snow, idiot. I’m talking about Hogsmeade. It’s just so… European. Like, the architecture, it looks medieval, and the way everything is covered in snow. It looks like a postcard people send when they’re vacationing in Europe.”

Typical Ravenclaw, Felix thought as they wandered the narrow, white streets of the village, the blue and bronze suited him so well. Always so observant. It was something Felix liked about Christian-- when he was truly passionate about something, he let himself get lost in the little details. It was endearing seeing his brown eyes light up when he talked about his hometown in America or that one Muggle sport he really liked (“They call it football here in Europe,” he explained to Felix one night in the library when they were supposed to be studying. “But in the States we call it soccer. It’s kind of like Quidditch, but on the ground.”).

“You need to try out for Quidditch,” Felix urged him over warm butterbeer. The warmth of the pub was a nice contrast to the stinging cold outside. “I’m telling you, you’d definitely make the team.”  
  
“Don’t,” Christian scoffed. “Don’t say that. I’m not even that good.”  
  
“Literally shut up.”

“I’m really not!”  
  
“Christian!” Felix set his drink down and stared his best friend down over the table. “You play better than lads who’ve been playing their whole lives! Don’t even try to be humble here.”

“I wasn’t being humble, Felix,” The other boy mumbled, looking down halfheartedly at his own drink. “I really don’t think I’ll make the cut. Do you know how competitive tryouts are? You’d know.”

Felix’s own mind flashed back to last year when he tried out for the Hufflepuff team. He didn’t make it, naturally, but he wasn’t ready to be reminded of it. He’d let it slide, though. Just because he wasn’t going to let Christian, of all talented people, doubt himself.

“Yeah, you’re right, I would.” He conceded. “That’s why I’m telling you that you’d make it if you didn’t second guess yourself.”

The other boy said nothing to that. He just sighs and finishes his drink. Felix smiled.

“I’ll even cheer Ravenclaw on,” He smirked. “Just for you.”  
  
Christian mumbled something that sounded like “alright”, and that was how Felix knew he had him beat. Snow had begun falling at some point during their conversation; when they stepped outside, the sky sprinkled flakes lightly upon the earth, making Hogsmeade look even more enchanting.

“Where’s your scarf?” Felix asked, furrowing his brow, upon noticing the absence of the blue and grey thing Christian wore pretty much all winter.

“My scarf?” The taller boy blinked. “Oh, yeah. My owl tore a hole in it. Sucks, right-- Felix, what are you doing?”  
  
“Letting you borrow mine.” Felix explained, already draping his own black and yellow scarf around his friend. “It’s cold. Can’t have you being sick for tryouts.”  
  
Christian laughed and adjusted the scarf. Felix still thought nothing suited him better than blue and bronze, but the black and yellow looked pretty good too.

 

**year four**

 

Despite all the excitement surrounding the Yule Ball, Christian didn’t feel so caught up in the preparations. Sure, it was cool because it only happened once every century, but it also seemed so out of place at Hogwarts.

“Look, finding a girl to take isn’t that hard.” Roman told him. “There’s so many that are desperate for a boy to ask them. Everyone just wants to go, have a good time, y’know?”  
  
“My girlfriend has single friends that wouldn’t mind going with someone a year younger.” Julian offered, barely looking up from his textbook. “She could help out. She has good taste.”  
  
“Or you could just stick it out by yourself like I am,” Felix shrugged. “I don’t even _want_ to go after hearing everyone freak out about it.”  
  
For some reason, hearing Felix say that made him slightly less nervous. Nervous of what, exactly, he wasn’t sure. But knowing his best friend wasn’t feeling it either was reassuring; it made him feel less weird about his own doubts, and it was good to know that he wasn’t the only one so apathetic towards the whole thing.

Unfortunately, his plan to avoid a commitment fell through when some girl from his Charms class left a note on his desk one day asking if he wanted to go to the ball with her. He slowly, discreetly, put it in his pocket, being careful not to wrinkle it because she was watching him from the back of the class and giggling with her friends. He couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the lesson and had to race for the door to avoid them as class let out.

“This is _too_ good,” Marc, another one of the older boys he’d befriended, cackled as he read the note. “Look at you, growing up so fast. I’m so proud.”  
  
“I don’t even _know_ her.” Christian started, feeling panicked. “I just know she’s in my class. How do I respond to this? What do I do?”  
  
“Well,” Marc shrugged. “Can’t be a twat and turn her down, no? Is she at least cute?”  
  
“Marc, I don’t _know.”_  
  
“You didn’t even see her?”  
  
“Fine,” Christian sighed, agitated. “She’s cute. But I don’t know her.”  
  
“I say wait till you get any more offers.” The older boy decided pensively. “Then, you can really have your pick. You never know, someone close to you might be interested and work up the courage to ask.”

That sounded like decent enough advice. After all, Marc had been with his girlfriend since they were second years. So, he decided to take it. Soon enough, just as Marc predicted, he began hearing rumors about which girls had crushes on him, which ones hoped he’d ask them to the ball, which ones hoped he’d just notice them in general. It was so stressing, especially as the ball kept creeping closer.

“I don’t get it,” He confided to Felix during a class change. “Why is all of this happening now?”  
  
“This stupid ball is making everyone lose it,” Felix remarked bitterly. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”  
  
“Why me, though?” Christian wondered aloud. “Why am I all of a sudden getting so much attention?”  
  
Felix stopped him right there, placing a hand out in front of him. “Christian, you’ve _always_ gotten attention. Hopefully now that you notice it you won’t let it go to your head or something.”  
  
Christian was at a loss for words, unsure of what exactly he did, as he watched his friend sulk off to his class.

When the Yule Ball finally arrived, Christian wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice. He knocked on Felix’s door, feeling more nervous than he would knocking on some girl’s. Since that day a week ago, he’d noticed that his friend was becoming distant. The door opened slowly to reveal Felix with hair half-combed and histie half-tied.

“Christian?” The other boy peered around him. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your date, whichever one you decided to take?”  
  
“I’m not taking anyone,” He admitted with a shrug. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Yeah.”

Felix let him in his dorm. He took a seat on his friend’s bed, moving aside all the books and papers on it, and watched as he finished combing his hair. Felix raised a brow at him through the mirror.

“Why did you decide on going alone?”

“I don’t know,” He sighed. “It’s just… I don’t really _like_ any of the girls, if I’m honest. And I didn’t want to get their hopes up or anything. Plus, you’re not going with anyone either.”

Felix set down his comb and narrowed his eyes at him. “So you felt bad for me?”

“What? No!” Christian insisted, eyes growing wide upon realizing how _bad_ that came off as. “I just really didn't see the point in going if no one I wanted to go with wanted to go with me.”

Okay, but _who_ exactly did he _want_ to go with? That was a good question he’d never asked himself till then. He looked up at Felix.

“Alright.” The other boy didn't question it. “But we’re not slow dancing.”

“We’re going together?” Christian laughed. Maybe it covered up his surprise. His heart beat a little faster at a vague idea he wasn't sure was even plausible.

Felix shook his head. “Nope. But we can’t be the only two without dates within our friend group, right?”

“Right.”

In the end, it all went fine. The ball was fun, if not a little bit of a blur towards the end, and all their friends had brought their girlfriends along, but they kept each other company when the slow music started playing. Everything was alright.

 

**year five**

 

Felix never realized how easy he had it at Hogwarts till then. Moving across Europe and being so far away from his mother had been hard at first, and the new language was a challenge, but when he put things into perspective, he didn’t have it _bad._

“Are you really just going to let those pricks get away with that?” He hissed at Christian, shooting a dirty look at the band of Slytherins sitting across from them at the library. “They just called you a-- literally, just called you a--”

“Mudblood.” His friend finished for him flatly. “A Yank mudblood with no business in Europe. Yeah, Felix, I heard them too.”  
  
“Do you know what it m--”  
  
“Impure, dirty, inferior to pureblooded wizards. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t. That was just so dirty an insult, one that was translated across many languages-- his own included-- that insinuated so many things.

“Felix.” Christian warned. “Let it go. They’re not worth it.”

“Alright, Mr. Prefect.” He mumbled grudgingly, still staring daggers at the table of green-clad students. “Let’s go before I jinx the entire lot.”  
  
He tried letting it go, he really did. After all, Christian didn’t want him to get involved. But his friend’s policy of live-and-let-live (for fear of getting his prefect status stripped) was proving a bit too permissive.

_Go home, mudblood._

That was when Felix decided he’d had enough on Christian’s behalf. Just the nerve of the pricks, to write it on his Quidditch cupboard and then to chant it at the match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Again, Christian told him not to make a big deal out of it. It’s just ink, he said, shrugging, as he wiped it off his dresser, it’ll come off. So, it wasn’t exactly a surprise to anyone when Felix ended up in detention with Umbridge for jinxing one of the Slytherin beaters, the one he _knew_ had done it, before their match against Gryffindor. Christian, of course, was livid.

“I told you it wasn’t a big deal!” He snapped at Felix that next morning at breakfast for the entire hall to hear. “Now look at what you’ve done, dammit, now Slytherin hates us and everyone is blaming me because you couldn’t stay out of it!”

He couldn’t think of any way to respond other than to squeeze his hands into fists and let the wounds on the backs open painfully. When he showed them to Marco, the other boy winced.

“ _I must not get involved…”_ Marco said, gingerly picking up his hand and reading the red words on it. He looked up, horrified. “How did this happen?”  
  
“Umbridge. I had detention with her yesterday for jinxing the hell out of that beater on your team.”  
  
Marco tsked, setting Felix’s hand down. “Right. Poor bloke couldn’t stop complaining about it at practice. All you did was make him look uglier than he already is.”  
  
“So Umbridge told me not to get involved. Something about ‘how sometimes we just have to let things happen despite it compromising our values’.” He scoffed, imitating Professor Umbridge’s ridiculous voice. “And so did Christian, he told me off too. He kind of yelled at me this morning at breakfast.”

“So I heard.”  
  
“Were we that dramatic?”  
  
“No, but people love to gossip.” Marco explained. “Look, it happens. Sometimes he’ll get mad at you when you look out for him. It’s natural on both your parts, y’know, to protect. But at least is shows you care. Just let him cool down and then try to return to normal, but don’t stifle him. He won’t like that.”  
  
Felix blinked. “What?”

Marco raised a brow. “What?”  
  
“Nothing, it just sounds like…” Felix trailed off. “Like you speak from experience.” He laughed, but unsure why. “This sounds like relationship advice.”

“Is it… Not?”  
  
At that point, Felix decided it better to leave before things got even more awkward. No, of course not, he didn’t have anything with Christian. They were _best friends,_ for Merlin’s sake. Had it been any of his other close friends, he would’ve gotten just as involved. That was just the altruist in him, the fierce loyalty he had to those he loved. As friends. They weren’t anything but. Even if sometimes he felt weird, nearly threatened, when he observed how girls would defy seating arrangements just to sit close to Christian, or how he’d gotten so many offers to the ball last year. Sometimes he remembered how relieved he was-- and how he wouldn’t let it show-- when he told him he wasn’t taking anyone. Sometimes he remembered summer, the last three weeks of which they spent together in Germany with Felix’s mother, and how they’d stayed up till sunrise just talking. Sometimes he remembered how his heart beat a little faster, inexplicably, when Christian looked at him and only him.

They didn’t talk to each other for a week after the breakfast incident. When they did, it’s almost as if a bubble around Felix had been popped.

“Your Patronus is a bloody eagle.” He laughed, amazed, one day in the Room of Requirement. “I can’t believe it, you right Yank.”  
  
Christian only smirked. “Yeah? Let’s see yours.”  
  
Neither of them are surprised when a silvery, fleeting ferret emerges from the tip of Felix’s wand, slinking and coiling playfully through the air. But what Felix didn’t tell Christian is that the memory he used to conjure his patronus was one from the past summer; they’d gotten lost in the woods near Felix’s house, but didn’t feel lost so long as they had each other for company. Eventually, they found their way back when the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, but it only felt like they’d been gone for minutes.

When a group of girls started congregating around Christian, asking him about his patronus, practically swooning when the eagle soared out from his wand with wings wide spread, Felix stood back; he simply let it happen despite the growing lump in his throat, and the way his heartbeat slowed.

_I must not get involved._

  
  
  
**year six**

 

Felix Felicis was a potion believed to give its user twelve hours of extremely good luck. It was gold in color and had the consistency of watercolor. Its nickname was appropriate-- liquid luck-- but it was only to be ingested in small doses lest its intent backfire.

Professor Slughorn had offered a vial of it as a prize in potions, but, honestly, Christian didn’t feel as if he’d ever need it. He’d just won the match for Ravenclaw, the first of the season, on his debut as the team’s new seeker. All the praise was well-deserved, if he thought so himself.

“You wouldn’t need that liquid luck thing, anyways,” Felix told him, hugging him after the match. “You’ve got me, I’m Felix.”

Christian rolled his eyes at his friend’s terrible pun, but secretly wondered if he was right. Felix to him was consistency, loyalty. Trust. Perhaps not luck, because luck didn't win matches or score perfect marks.

The season progressed. Ravenclaw was on a winning streak that made everyone wonder whether it really _was_ luck or something else entirely. Winning felt good, he had to admit it. It also felt good to revel in the attention he’d once been doubtful of receiving. Of course, he wasn’t going to let it get to his head, as Felix earned what seemed ages ago, but he had room to be just a little cocky, right? Cockily gracious, that was the way to describe it. He didn’t go around flaunting his abilities, or talking down about the other teams. That would just jinx it. And even though he didn’t necessarily believe in luck, he wasn’t willing to take that risk.

But, surely, when Ravenclaw made it to the finals against Gryffindor, he was feeling good enough to throw superstitions out the window.

“We’re going to beat you,” He half-joked to Roman. “I’m serious, we have a chance at this.”

“Alright,” The Gryffindor keeper snorted. “Bet, mate. Just don’t be upset when you don’t, you’re the one that called it.”

They looked up when Felix finally decided to join them. The blond boy had been distant as of late. Christian supposed it’d been ever since Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff last week. He felt bad dealing the blow to his best friend’s house, but there were absolutely no friends in Quidditch.

“Hey, Felix,” He smiled at him, hoping his moodiness had eased. “You good?”

“How humble of you, sitting with the commoners,” Felix barely looked at him when he took a seat next to Roman. “Shouldn’t you be with your fans?”

Christian blinked, confused. Roman made a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“All those girls you hang around with in class.” Felix explained coolly, rummaging through his bag for something. “All those girls that hang around _you_ in class. Your fans.”

A silence fell over the three of them. Roman cleared his throat. “Anyways, I think I should go. I’ve got practice and stuff.”

“Are you alright?” Christian asked his friend once Roman had left. He was still confused by Felix’s attitude.

Felix finally looked up at him. His green eyes were hard. “Me? I’m fine. I just don’t know how you are. After all, you’re so busy being a Quidditch star that I don't even get to talk to you anymore.”

“Felix…” He started, but the other boy shook his head.

“Don’t start.” He said. “I don’t want to hear about how nothing’s changed. Because it has."

* * *

 

“He’s pretty hurt, mate, you’ve rubbed him the wrong way entirely.”

Marco and Mario were like Felix’s adoptive older brothers. Christian knew he confided in them more than he possibly did in him. So, he went to them with hopes to sort out whatever was going between him and Felix.

“But what did I do?” He asked, actually completely clueless.

Mario shrugged. “You tell me, Christian. He’s just obviously hurt by your attitude.”

“What attitude--”

“That attitude.” Marco cuts him off rather coldly. “That fake humbleness. You forget that Felix knows you well enough to see right through it. Hell, _I_ can see right through it.”

“Yeah, you’re not good at being subtle.” Mario piped up. “And, like, it’s a hard thing when you've stuff to go off of, but to him it just seems like you're blowing him off for your new, popular friends.”

“So he’s… Jealous?” Christian frowned.

“Sure.”

“But what is he jealous of, exactly?” He questioned. “ _Who_ is he jealous of? And _why_ is he jealous? I don’t get it, it’s not like I’m with a--”

“People talk, y’know?” Marco stifled a laugh. “You think girls don’t brag about hooking up with the school Quidditch stars? Mario’s right, mate, you’re not subtle. At all. And Felix is hurt.”

Christian ignored how hot his face felt at Marco’s comment. “But… But _why?”_

“For Merlin, do I have to spell it out, Christian?” Marco laughed this time, mirthlessly. “He--”

“No, no!” Mario interrupted him by pinching his leg, causing the other boy to yelp in pain. “This isn’t our business to say!”

Now Christian was _extremely_ confused.

Mario looked at him, expression serious. “Listen, Christian. You need to sort this out with Felix. Personally. Go talk to him after the final tomorrow. Hopefully he’ll balls up himself and be willing to end this bloody mess.”

* * *

 

When Ravenclaw lost to Gryffindor, he hoped no one would rub it in. They didn’t; the Gryffindor players congratulated him on a match well-played, and his own team took the loss as the need to improve next time. Still. It felt terrible to lose.

He searched through the emptying stands for some gold, for blonde hair and a black and yellow scarf.  
  
“Felix!” He called out, hoping to get the boy’s attention. “Felix, wait!”

To his relief, Felix waited for him patiently at the edge of the stands. The other boy looked at him passively.  
  
“Yeah?” He arched a brow. His voice was still metallic.

“I’m sorry.”  
  
It was the only thing Christian could think of to say. He hoped he wouldn’t even have to explain himself, he hoped his conscience and Felix’s hurt would do all the talking.

“Losing isn’t fun,” He continued almost aimlessly. “It sucks. It feels awful. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you. I’m sorry.”  
  
Felix only nodded. “What are you sorry for?”  
  
“Honestly, I don’t know. Everything. I just don’t want this to be what we come to all because I’m an arrogant idiot who doesn’t know how to appreciate what he has.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Christian swallowed heavily, looking up at his friend for any sign of warmth. “Do… Do I still have you?”  
  
Felix scoffed, a smile touching his lips. “Always, mate. You’ve always got me.”

 

**year seven**

 

“You’re leaving Hogwarts?”  
  
Felix stared questioningly at his best friend. The dark-haired boy sat back on his bed, reclined against the throng of pillows, with his hands laced over his chest. His dark eyes avoided him.

“My parents heard about all that’s happening.” Christian said, staring up at the ceiling. “In England. With You-Know-Who. I don’t know who told them, I guess the school has an obligation to, but, point is, they want me back in the States. They don’t think it’s safe anymore.”

Felix exhaled audibly and took a seat on the edge of the bed. For what seemed the longest time, the only sound between them was their breathing. Felix bit his lip, unsure of what to say.

“I leave tomorrow,” Christian broke the silence. “I’m off to Heathrow as soon as the train arrives in London. I don’t want to.”

Felix rocked back and forth lightly. He swallowed heavily, looking over at the boy on his bed. “I think you should listen to your parents.”  
  
Christian scoffed. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“I’m serious. It’s getting really weird around here.”  
  
Now it was Christian’s turn to look at him. “Things have _always_ been weird around here. It’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Felix.” He sat up. “I really don’t want to go back to Pennsylvania. This is home now. And I feel like I’m betraying it by opting out right before something big is about to happen.”

Felix let that thought rest on him. He was right-- something big was about to happen, and everyone wanted to be a part of it. He tried putting himself in his friend’s place; what if his mother suddenly decided Germany was safer for him, that being at Hogwarts was too big a safety hazard? He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t go back. Christian was right-- this was _home._

“I don’t really have any friends over there, y’know?” The other boy continued. “It was hard keeping the ones I had when I couldn’t even tell them about all of this. There’s nothing left for me back home. Everything I know is here. And you’ve heard the talk. There’s going to be a fight. I don’t want to be the coward that dips before even taking a stand.”  
  
“Christian,” Felix shook his head. “I doubt anyone will see you as a coward. Your parents are only thinking of your safety.”  
  
“But I’ll _feel_ like a coward.” He retorted. “You don’t see everyone’s parents pulling their kids out of school, do you?”  
  
“Well--”  
  
“Not _everyone._ C’mon, what would you do if your mom bought you the first ticket back to Germany, forcing you on that flight without even a discussion?”  
  
“She’d just make me apparate.”  
  
“Not the point.”  
  
More silence.

“I still think you should go.” Felix breaks it quietly, delicately. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His mind suddenly flashed back to that one conversation he had with Marco ages ago, the one about how instinctively it came to protect. It went in tandem with his loyalty, his tendency to hold his loved ones closer than he did himself. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to Christian. He’d rather something happen to him before it come near the other boy.

Christian didn’t seem to understand that.

“Me?” He asked. “You’re worried about me getting hurt?”  
  
“You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, but-- Felix.” He sighed. “We’re the same age, we have the same experiences. We have the same chances of getting hurt in this.”  
  
Dammit, he wasn’t getting this. Felix’s heart pounded against his ribcage, echoing throughout his body, just like it had been for the past couple of years. He’d realized Christian had that effect on him when he was fourteen, denied it when he was fifteen, and finally came to terms with it last year. It was a reach, hoping it’d be reciprocated, but even if not, he couldn’t think of any other way to express his feelings.

“It’s not that,” He attempted. “It’s just…”  
  
“Just what?”  
  
“Nothing, never mind.”  
  
He couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it now, even if it was a lump in his throat that had bothered him since last year.

“No, not _never mind,_ ” Christian got off the bed and stood in front of him. “What is it?”  
  
Felix shook his head. “Nothing, forget about it.”  
  
“Sorry, can’t.” The other boy denied him, crossing his arms over his chest. “If it’s about me getting hurt, I’m over it. My entire life, people have told me I’m capable. I’m special, even. And maybe I’ve always acknowledged it as the truth, but I’ve taken it in stride very sparingly. But now? Jesus, Felix, you’re the one that convinced me to try out for Quidditch. And guess what? I made it. You recognized it. Everyone has always said, ‘Christian, you’re going places’, or ‘Christian, you’re something’.” He paused, scoffing. “If all this is true, why would you even worry about me? I’m not a child, I’m barely younger than you, I can pull my own. There’s no need for you to worry about me.”

Felix frowned. “What?”  
  
“There’s no need for you to worry about me. I’m perfectly capable.”  
  
“No, you’re perfectly arrogant, that’s what you are.” He countered, feeling anger pool between the rapid beats of his heart. “For Merlin, you’re a smart one, Christian, but I’m beginning to think the Hat sorted you in the wrong House.”

“Don’t--”  
  
“I will.” Felix cut him off. “Because I can, because I know you well enough to call you out on it. Someone caring about you shouldn’t deal a mortal blow to your stupidly big ego, mate. It’s what friends _do._ But I guess you’re fine with that, considering this isn’t the first time you’ve taken what we have for granted. I guess some things never change, do they? Especially if they don’t concern you.” He rolled his eyes, not even thinking about what he was going to say next. “You’re not even as good at things as you give yourself credit for. People talk just to talk sometimes, mate, and I don’t think you’ve learned that yet.”

Christian didn’t say anything for the longest of time. Felix’s hands shook at his sides; the scar he got from doing detention with Umbridge two years ago stung.

“Alright.” The other boy said softly, voice full of contempt. “I see how it is. Anyways, I’ll be in Harrisburg, and then Hershey, by this time tomorrow. I’m glad I had the chance to say goodbye. Who knows, we might not ever see each other again.”  
  
Was that a threat? Felix hopped off the bed and raced behind him out the dorm. Before he was out of earshot, he decided to say what had been weighing on his conscience since the year before.

_“I spiked your drink with Felix felicis last year!”_


	2. Chapter 2

Hogwarts didn't feel like Hogwarts anymore. As Julian led him into the castle through one of the Hogsmeade entrances, Christian couldn’t help but feel the stone walls, damp and threatening, loom dangerously over him as if about to collapse. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that. It never had.

The Room of Requirement was different than he last remembered it; it was draped in red, yellow, and blue-- the colors of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw-- but rightfully empty with the absence of green and silver. Everyone was there, all his older friends who’d graduated last year or prior, but it wasn’t a surprise. No one was willing to stand by and just let things happen. He saw Roman, Mario, Marco, Marc, everyone he’d thought he’d never see again upon returning home.

“Glad you’re back.” Roman clapped him on the back. “Didn’t for a second think you’d sit this out.”

He nodded, if not a bit uneasily, still scanning the crowded room for blonde hair, for gold. “Is Felix here?”

Roman blinked. “Wouldn’t you know?”

“We haven't really been in touch since September.”

As if on cue, Felix emerged from the crowd. He looked leaner, tougher, than when Christian had last seen him. His green eyes seemed to take everything in, even the light, with apprehension. Hogwarts really had changed.

“Christian?” Felix sounded incredulous when his gaze fell on him. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you back home?”

“I came back.” He answered almost absently, so many things going unsaid between them.

Felix only nodded, scoffing. “Of course you did."

* * *

 

When the armistice began, the only thing he could think of was finding Felix. He had exactly an hour, as it was declared, to make sure the other boy was alright, still alive. After seeing the bodies lined up in the Great Hall, all covered with sheets, he needed to settle the cold, growing feeling welling up inside him; the thought of Felix being beneath one of those sheets made him sick, but he couldn't bring himself to check or ask.

“Christian.”

He turned back on his heel, wand clutched tightly in his hand as it had been for the past couple of hours spent fighting, to find himself confronted by a pair of familiar jade eyes. He sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy without even thinking.

“Jesus Christ,” He breathed, letting go after what seemed like too long. “Jesus Christ, Felix.”

The shorter boy looked up at him, saying nothing. Christian frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Marco.”

It was a barely choked out syllable, as quiet as everything and everyone else in the hall. He allowed the other boy to fall back into his arms. Felix didn’t have to say anything else, he didn’t have to explain.

“Mario doesn’t know yet.” Felix whispered against his chest. “No one’s told him.”   
  
Christian let that sink in as he ran his fingers through Felix’s fine hair. It was matted down with dust and sweat, the definite proof of what they’d all been through, but he didn’t care. What if it were them? Would someone tell him? Or would they let him wait like Mario, let him wait till he found out himself by peeling back a sheet? He didn’t even want to think about it. Instead, he just held Felix close. He liked to think it helped both of them.

* * *

 

They found each other yet again after the armistice ended and the fighting resumed. It was completely unintentional, to gravitate towards each other the way they did, but they remained together even as killing curses and worse missed them by centimeters. It was then that Christian realized there was no one else he’d rather at his side; Felix’s movements mirrored his own as they fought back-to-back, wands clutched tightly in opposite hands, as green and red flashes of light made the darkness of the impending night seem like day.

Any lull in the rhythm warranted a much-needed break, or what could constitute as such in the middle of a battle. Christian let his eyes close for a couple of seconds, but red and gold and white spots kept him from truly resting, even if just for a bit. Next to him, slumped against the coolness of a wall, Felix struggled to calm his breathing. It was every bit as erratic and heaving as his own was.

“I can’t do this.” The other boy nearly croaked, reminding Christian how dry his own throat felt. “Hell, this is hell.”  
  
He nodded weakly, absentmindedly, before offering Felix his hand and helping him up. Felix didn’t let go; instead, he laced his pale, clammy fingers with his own. Christian squeezed his hand, running his thumb over a series of scars on the back of it, before Felix wriggled it out of his grasp and reached for his wand.

“Let’s go.” He decided. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily in his throat.

And so they exited the relative safety of their alcove, and stepped back into what Felix had rightfully dubbed hell. Back-to-back they were, again, till Christian was forced to move around till Felix was next to him and a wall behind them. He’d never seen Felix so focused, so fierce, as when he spared a quick glance at him; his eyes, glinting determinedly, absorbed the pale green of the killing curse till they were more jade in color than the light itself. Seeing him so fearless, even after all that had happened, reminded Christian of something Felix had said before he left, something about how maybe the Hat had sorted him into the wrong House.

“I’ve got you!” Felix shouted at him, urging him to keep moving. “Go, go, I’ll cover you!”

Had it not been for the beam of green hurling right towards Felix, Christian would’ve listened. But a terrifying, plausible vision filled his head; he imagined Felix, laying peacefully in the stillness of the Great Hall, surrounded by all their friends; he imagined kneeling next to his friend’s still body, just as Mario had probably done with Marco, while the world outside kept moving, spinning, tearing itself apart, and more bodies were to be counted come the next sunrise, but the only one that mattered to him would be right there still, motionless, to be hidden from the world with a thin sheet.

 _“Aveda kedavra!”_   
  
He nearly dropped his wand when the green light flashed out of it, colliding against the green that was aimed towards Felix, and hit a Death Eater directly in the chest. The dark-clothed body dropped to the ground, still, a contrast to the chaos surrounding them. Christian looked over at Felix in fear, expecting him to be horrified, but the other boy’s expression was unreadable.

“Did you just…?” Felix trailed off, his eyes wide.

“I think I did,” Christian whispered despite the din. “Oh my God, Felix, I just _killed_  someone. I just used dark magic on another person, that makes me no better than the people we’re fighting, oh my God, _Felix--”_ _  
_   
“Christian, you saved my life.”

He swallowed heavily, feeling ready to faint. “You would’ve done the same.” He rapidly searched Felix’s face. “Would you?”  
  
The blond boy blinked slowly. The world spun before Christian; everything was beginning to blur, shades of gray, brown, red, green, _jade, gold_ muddled into an indiscernible tonality. Everything was so loud, shouts, screams, wails, and it made him want to see nothing, hear nothing.

“... Like I said,” Felix’s voice sounded miles away. Christian wasn’t sure if he’d said anything before that. “I’ve always got you.”

* * *

 

When he woke, it was with a startle at a bright light fighting its way behind his eyelids. Upon opening his eyes, he realized it was only sunlight, bright and warm and unassuming, as it filtered through the windows of what he thought was the school infirmary.

“Calm.” A voice that sounded achingly like Roman’s chastised him. “There’s no need for you get up so quickly after that fainting spell.”  
  
It _was_ Roman, of course. Naturally, Christian sat up, against his advice, but immediately let himself back down against the hard mattress with a groan.

“Where’s Felix?” His own voice sounded foreign, choked. “Is he alive?”

Roman chuckled. “Mate, we’re _all_ alive. Miracle, isn’t it? Good thing is we won, though, so, literally, there’s no need--”   
  
“I want to see Felix.” 

Roman sighed, muttering something about him being “a stubborn Yank”, but helped up and out of the infirmary anyways. Hogwarts was completely destroyed-- the staircase was crumbling and the ground bore cracks lined with bloodstains-- but everything looked passable bathed in the warm gold that was such a contrast to the shadows and confusion of the night prior. All the tables in the Great Hall had been replaced-- gone were the rows of bodies and makeshift infirmary beds-- but no one sat by House.

“He’s alright!” That was Marc, who bore a nasty cut on his lip, but was smiling at him nonetheless.

“I guess.” Christian mumbled, his head still pounding, as he slowly took a seat next to the Spaniard. “I feel awful.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Julian snorted. “Felix told us you pretty much collapsed on him after--” He paused. “After, well, saving his life.”

Knowing that everyone probably knew mad Christian want to faint again. But somehow, he stayed conscious even though he felt physically ill. His actions yesterday were a dark blur he'd rather the sunlight not shed clarity on. 

“You missed it,” Erik, who sat on the other side of Marc, piped up. “The victory. One second the sky is all overcast and nasty, and the next-- gone. It was the most magical thing I’d witnessed here.”

Everyone laughed at that. Roman handed Christian a mug full of hot, strong-smelling tea. It tasted terrible, but the heat made everything less hazy and loud. It was then he truly registered Mario’s absence. He winced, wondering where he was and how he was holding up.

“How did you even _leave_ the infirmary?”   
  
He looked up at the sound of Felix’s voice as he hastily made their way towards their group. Christian felt his heart speed up at the sight of him; he looked paler than usual and a row of bruises that looked strangely like fingerprints circled his neck, but otherwise he looked fine. That wasn’t it though. He couldn’t explain why his heart was threatening to race out of his chest at the sight of the other boy. Not knowing bothered him, but he ultimately decided it was relief for him being alive. Maybe it justified what he did. Maybe.

“Roman.” Christian smirked at him, moving over to make room for him on the bench.

“He wanted to!” Roman exclaimed in his own defense from across the table. “First thing this twat asks when he’s finally conscious after scaring the shit out of all of us is where you were. I only obliged like a good nurse caring for his patient.”  
  
Their entire group fawned over that, making Christian blush. Felix’s hand bumped against his beneath the table. He was certain it was unintentional till he realized he was the one that kept touching him. Discreetly, he gave into his instinct and just took the other boy’s hand in his, taking careful note of the scars-- the words-- he’d ran his thumb over yesterday. Felix squeezed his hand.

Everything was alright.

 

**nineteen months later**

 

Felix knew the woods near his house like the back of his own hand. His right hand, of course, not his left. That was the scarred one, the one that would always remind him to never get involved in other’s affairs. The wound didn’t sting anymore, it didn’t open, but he doubted it would ever fade.

“I’m so glad I never had detention with that woman,” Christian decided after Felix explained to him where it came from. “Actually, I’m glad I never had detention at all.”

“That’s because you were a prefect.” Felix scoffed teasingly. “Could you imagine it? One of Ravenclaw’s star students, their bloody Quidditch star, getting detention? No, of course not. You were such a kiss-up in school.”  
  
“I was not!” The other boy whined. “I was just a good student. Teachers liked me, other students liked me--”   
  
“ _Women_ liked you--”   
  
“Shut up.” Christian laughed, swatting his shoulder gently. “I’m over that. I’m pretty over Hogwarts in general, actually.”

“Yeah, me too.”  
  
Even nineteen months couldn’t ease over their memories of the battle. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, Felix could still see the flash of green light coming towards him only to be overtaken by more green coming from his right. He could still see his best friend, eyes wide and hands shaking, asking him if he’d do the same. He didn’t say it then, and hopefully wouldn’t have to prove it, but he wouldn’t have thought twice if it meant both of them were okay. It would take years for him to not have nightmares about Christian not waking up after he blacked out, and it would take more than a lifetime to come to terms with the loss of a friend who’d been more like a brother.

But they were doing alright, he was trying. Everything would be alright.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink beneath the trees and turn the sky into a painting. The small brook gurgled cheerfully and birds called out their goodnights nearby. It was time to start heading back to his house, but the peace of the outdoors was welcomed.

“Christian?”  
  
The other boy looked up at him. Felix loved the way he ran his thumb over the back of his hand; it was a soothing, calming gesture that he never knew he needed.

“I’m sorry.” Felix’s voice was soft even against the stillness of the woods.

“For… What?”  
  
“Remember before you left Hogwarts?” He asked almost timidly. “I said something I shouldn’t have. I _did_ something I shouldn’t have.”   
  
Christian narrowed his eyes at him. Felix kept talking, not really sure where he was going.

“I spiked your drink with Felix felicis,” He went on. “During our sixth year. I knew how bad you wanted to win, to have a good season, and, well.” He paused. “I snuck a drop right before one of the early matches. You just… You just happened to have a really good season after that. That was all you.”  
  
“But… Ravenclaw lost the final.”   
  
“Yeah.” Felix sighed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I know. I meant to put another drop right before it, but I let my own jealousy get in the way of it. You could’ve won. I’m so sorry.”   
  
Silence. Felix wriggled his hand out of Christian’s, and looked up at him for any sign of expression.

“I’m not mad, Felix.” The other boy finally said. “I mean, I kind of deserve it, judging on the way I treated you. I let it all go to my head, just like you warned against.”  
  
“So you forgive me?”   
  
“I wasn’t holding anything against you to begin with. If anything, _I’m_ the one that should be grovelling for your forgiveness after… After, well, everything. I don't think I'll ever be in a position to think myself better than others after the battle.” He looked down, at his hands, where his wand would have been clutched, then back up at Felix. There was a small smile on his lips. “Plus, my Hogwarts career doesn’t really matter when I’m playing professionally.”   
  
Felix found himself smiling too. “You’re a cocky bastard sometimes, you know that?”   
  
“Mmm, I am. But you ground me.”

More silence. The sky was nearly dark now save for a sliver of pink-gold-orange tinging the bottom of the black near the horizon.

“Felix?”  
  
“Yes?”   
  
Christian hesitated with whatever he was going to ask. Felix arched a brow at him.

  
“You’ve got me, right?” The other boy asked, a pink that matched the dwindling dusk tinging his cheeks. “In… Whatever we’re about to do with our lives now? You’ve got me?”   
  
Felix laughed, and leaned over to press a quick kiss against Christian’s lips.   
  
“Always, mate.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Lily, and I love validation in the form of kudos and comments :)


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